The Pirates and the Nightmaker (20 page)

I hoped, with fury in my heart, that this would be the last sight I ever had of Mr Nicholas Wicker, sorcerer and fiend.

Mr Flynn’s astrolabe had worked.

Now, I was about to test the magic wands he had used as scissors to sever my bonds.

As soon as I saw Mr Wicker lost within the streets of Cartagena I flew back to the rooftops of the castle. I landed next to the astrolabe where I pondered my situation.

As far as Mr Wicker was concerned, he would not expect to see me until after dark back on the
Firefly
with the astrolabe. That gave me several hours before he would be troubled by my absence and call me home.

The problem that tested my courage was my not knowing whether Mr Flynn’s wands had really worked. If they had not worked, then it would not matter whether I were a stone’s throw from Mr Wicker or several hundred leagues, I would still be drawn inexorably back.

I had just witnessed, were it needed, yet another demonstration of Mr Wicker’s dark powers. I remembered with horror how he had dealt to Jacob Stone. He had now reduced Don Scapino to a gibbering idiot and there was no suggestion that he would ever be anything else. Most of all, though, was the on-going reality of what he had already done to me. Could I really risk his wrath?

Even were I free of his bonds, I would not be free of his
pursuit. Could I risk that? But then, hadn’t I also seen a demonstration of the power of Mr Flynn? Surely cutting my bonds with his magic wands was small beer compared with the power of drenching the sun and filling the world with darkness. And beyond Mr Flynn was the mysterious potency of Captain Bass, for he surely possessed some terrible power himself, otherwise why would Mr Flynn be so terrified of him?

I gazed beyond the roofline and over the city to the blue waters of the Spanish Main twinkling beyond. What was the old line? I was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.

A compromise suggested itself. Could I not deliver the astrolabe to Mr Wicker and then fly off to freedom? Would he pursue me then?

Probably, I thought sourly. He did seem determined to keep me at his beck and call. What had he said?
You are far too valuable to me now.

Of course, then I would be risking the wrath of Captain Bass.

It was hopeless. I was running around in circles: first clockwise and then anticlockwise.

It was while I was agonising that I rubbed at my chest and felt the letter still tucked in my shirt.

Once again I remembered Sophie’s appeal and again I saw her face. At that moment, my resolution strengthened and a decision was made. What had been difficult, what had seemed impenetrably murky, was in an instant simple and clear.

I seized the astrolabe and clutched it to my chest. I leapt
off the roof’s parapet and into the air, flew over the walled town, and started my journey over the great ocean that lay before me.

I had never flown so far, nor carried anything as heavy and ungainly as the astrolabe. I had heard that the great albatrosses could remain in the air for weeks at a time, ever so gently gliding on the wind with their great outstretched wings. I doubted, though, whether even the greatest albatross could do this with a heavy brass instrument clutched to its breast.

Luckily, from time to time there was a small island or a passing vessel below me where I could alight for some time to rest my weary arms and wings.

As the day wore on, so did my apprehension grow. I knew that as dusk turned to darkness, Mr Wicker would begin to wonder where I was and why I had not returned to the
Firefly
as instructed. As darkness deepened he would undoubtedly summon me. Unless Mr Flynn’s wands had worked, I would have to return to Cartagena, flying hours and hours through the darkness to face a furious Mr Wicker.

Eventually, the sun did begin to sink over the western horizon and the sky flamed orange then red. Weariness had driven me to land on a tiny rocky outcrop a little offshore from a larger island. I placed the astrolabe beside me and lay down on a strip of golden sand. I had expected my fears would keep me open-eyed and wide awake, but my exhaustion was such that I fell almost at once into a deep and dreamless sleep.

When at length I opened my eyes the sky was pink once again, but this time pink with the dawn. I sat up, rubbing my eyes, shaking the sleep out of my head and looking about me. My entire body was aching, my arms particularly, and I stretched for recovery. Only when I glanced beside me to see the astrolabe’s dull yellow brass lying on the sand did the full memory of my long flight return.

I stood up, then, gazing about me. I felt no tug, no pull, no call. If Mr Wicker had attempted to draw me and my cargo back to Cartagena, no message had arrived.

I smiled. I laughed. It could only be that I was free, free at last of my slavery.

Suddenly, the oppressive weariness was gone and I seized the astrolabe, clutched it to me and leapt into the air, the instrument at once light as a feather.

My energy renewed, I flew onwards through the morning. I flew higher both to catch the stronger winds and to better see the map of the sea below me. I was flying north but with only a vague idea of where I would find the Cove. This meant as I drew nearer to where it might be found, I had to expend more energy flying back and forth, exploring possibilities.

Towards evening, I finally saw its familiar outline: the enclosed harbour, the green forests and the single conical peak. I swung towards it, every league I flew confirming that this really was the Cove. Before long I was once again flying right over the little haven, suddenly small after the great, well-protected harbour of Cartagena.

I was proud of having made the journey so quickly. It
might give me more time before the
Firefly
arrived back with the angry Mr Wicker. For all that, I was not entirely sure what to do beyond giving Sophie the letter. After I had done this I could see only two things I must do: I must leave before Mr Wicker returned and I must somehow get the astrolabe to Captain Bass.

I had no idea how to achieve the second. Captain Bass sailed a spectre ship I had only discovered by accident. How to locate this once more was an absolute mystery.

The first was more pressing, but only suggested where I should
not
be, not where I
should
be.

I circled the bay. The western headland was scarred yet with the black stain of the house fire and the waters and port were still hosts to a number of ships. With relief, I saw that the
Medusa
was, as before, moored against the wharf and I quickly dropped down to the familiarity of its crow’s nest.

Here I deposited the astrolabe and then dropped further down to the deck to see if I could find Sophie. This was not difficult. She was at supper in the wardroom with her mother. When she saw me waving through the porthole she gave a quick grin, nodded at the door and began to eat noticeably more quickly. I took this to mean that she would see me on deck as soon as she had finished her meal — and so it proved.

We walked to the poop deck. Sophie was delighted to see me and expressed surprise at my sudden return, especially when she looked about and saw no
Firefly
at anchor.

‘I needed to get back to the Cove,’ I said, ‘and was
able to do so. Wonderfully, I have been freed from the entanglements of Mr Wicker.’

Sophie’s smile grew broader. ‘How?’ she asked.

This was rather too complicated to answer. Instead I drew the letter from my jerkin.

‘This is why I needed to get back so quickly.’

When Sophie took the letter and saw to whom it was addressed she looked at me gratefully.

‘Is it—’

‘It is the letter Don Scapino gave Mr Wicker. I’m sure of that. I discovered it in Mr Wicker’s coat. Whether it contains what we think it does, only a broken seal will reveal.’

‘I’ll wager it does,’ said Sophie. ‘Can I give this to my mother?’

‘That’s why I’ve returned it.’

‘This is joyful news,’ said Sophie. ‘This means we will take the
Medusa
to Jamaica and hand that rogue over to the authorities. I’m sure such a deed will redeem my mother.’

‘I hope so,’ I said.

‘What will you do now?’ asked Sophie.

‘The letter was not the only thing I retrieved from Cartagena,’ I said. ‘I also brought with me the astrolabe Mr Wicker stole from the Spanish
commandante
. I need to return this to its rightful owner, and I must do so before Mr Wicker returns. I’m sure he will waste no time pursuing me. Even as we speak the
Firefly
will be heading back to the Cove.’

Sophie looked troubled. ‘He will be angry …’

‘Very angry,’ I said, ‘and I dread the consequences of his anger.’

‘And where
is
this mysterious owner?’

‘That is the problem,’ I said, smiling. ‘I have no idea.’

Sophie held up the letter. ‘I will to my mother with this straightway,’ she said.

I smiled. ‘And you will tell her where you got it from?’

Sophie looked at me, realising. ‘Oh,’ she said, thinking. ‘I will tell her I was handed it by a stranger.’

‘An invisible stranger?’

‘I think just “stranger” will suffice.’

‘
Am
I a stranger?’

She smiled mischievously. ‘Well, you are stranger than anyone I’ve ever known before,’ she said.

And with that, and a quick wave, Sophie hurried away.

I left the boat and flew into the little town. I had been honest with Sophie: I had no idea how to find Captain Bass. But I did have an idea just who might be able to help me find him, that is if he were still in the Cove.

First, I visited the boarding house where both Captain Lightower and Mr Flynn had stayed. I investigated the lobby then both the upstairs and the downstairs corridors, but the exercise was fruitless as I had no idea in what room the inventor was staying. I then thought that, as it was dinner time, he could well be in one of the inns — and so it proved.

Having seen him previously in the Rope and Gibbet, I looked first for him there and found him, just as I had seen him earlier, at the far table. This time, of course, there was no Don Scapino present; indeed, Mr Flynn had no company at all.

I slipped in beside him as he was cutting into a pie. There was a tankard beside him from which he was taking occasional slurps.

‘Are you enjoying your meal, sir?’ I asked.

His knife skidded across the platter as he swung about to see me sitting beside him.

‘Oh, Loblolly Boy, you gave me a start!’

‘I have been searching for you.’

‘You have? My goodness, and now you’ve found me.’

‘Don’t you wish to know why I’ve been searching for you?’

Mr Flynn forked a gobbet of pie into his mouth and ruminated thoughtfully. He turned to me and said, ‘I imagine because you wished to find me?’

I nodded, ‘Of course, but why?’

‘Haven’t I answered that?’

I shook my head. ‘Think!’

Mr Flynn paused mid-fork and then his eyes widened.

‘The astrolabe!’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I have the astrolabe!’

He looked at me as if testing whether I were serious and then, deciding that I was, clapped his hands with delight. Then his face fell. ‘But Mr Wicker? Where is Mr Wicker?’ He looked about him nervously as if expecting the saturnine figure to step through the doorway of the Rope and Gibbet at that very moment.

‘I last saw him in Cartagena.’

‘Goodness!’ He looked very relieved.

‘Mr Flynn, your scissors worked.’

‘Scissors?’

‘The wands you used to cut my bonds to Mr Wicker. I’m no longer beholden to him!’

‘Splendid,’ said Mr Flynn, clapping his hands once more.

‘And that’s not all that worked,’ I added. ‘Your astrolabe worked as well.’

‘It did?’

‘It really did. Mr Wicker used it to summon the darkness and the daylight vanished at once. In that darkness we were able to exchange astrolabes and so I have been able to bring your astrolabe back here.’

Mr Flynn stared at me with pleasure but then his face fell.

‘But Mr Wicker will be very angry,’ he said.

‘That’s exactly what Sophie Blade said,’ I replied, ‘and that is why I must find the captain as soon as possible.’

‘Captain?’

‘Captain Bass, of course.’

‘No need, no need,’ said Mr Flynn.

‘But I must,’ I said. ‘I promised him.’

‘You can give it to me and I can return it to the captain.’

I shook my head. ‘It is kind of you, but I think I’d prefer to hand it directly to the captain myself.’

I didn’t say so, but I was thinking that the last time the inventor had the astrolabe in his hands he’d managed to sell it to Don Scapino in Portobelo.

Again, Mr Flynn’s face fell. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Utterly sure,’ I said, ‘but I do need to know how to find Captain Bass.’

‘Oh dear,’ sighed Mr Flynn. ‘If only it were that easy.’

‘It’s not?’ I asked.

‘Not at all easy,’ he said. ‘In fact, it would be more accurate to say that you do not find Captain Bass, he finds you.’

‘I see …’

I considered this. He was almost certainly right. I thought about the time I had discovered the phantom barque, the
Astrolabe
. It had come upon me unawares on a still calm night when I was aloft in the crow’s nest of the
Medusa
. I had been alerted by its strange phosphorescence and the uncanny fact of its ploughing through seas and winds of its own making while all about it was becalmed in the doldrums. Captain Bass had suggested that, like me, his ship was invisible, as he himself was invisible, because we were all — Captain, Loblolly Boy and
Astrolabe
— inhabitants of a netherworld and cut off from human contact.